


Enemy Mine

by Radioluminescence



Category: Transformers: Cyberverse
Genre: M/M, Pining, Spoilers, Threats of Violence, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:01:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24271750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Radioluminescence/pseuds/Radioluminescence
Summary: Soundwave and Hot Rod reunite on the battlefield, having not resolved much of anything.
Relationships: Hot Rod/Soundwave
Comments: 9
Kudos: 77





	Enemy Mine

**Author's Note:**

> The title is literally just from the fact that I misread s3e18 as “enemy mine” instead of “enemy line” and got excited.
> 
> I posted something on Tumblr about Soundwave being the one to tear down the wall now that Megatron is [spoiler] in recovery/dead, but that got me thinking of the opposite outcome, one where Soundwave champions the Decepticon cause in his absence, even if he’d much rather just be with Hot Rod.
> 
> This isn’t the most romantic piece. I didn’t want to erase Soundwave’s uh...Decepticon-ness? So he's not handling feelings in the most constructive way.

The old energon refinery was an underground project of Wheeljack’s, meant to help the rebuild effort. Hot Rod was one of a few that knew of its existence, a few being a group so small he could count it on his hands. He remembers feeling the pride, then having it wane just as quickly when life resumed as normal shortly after.

He doesn’t know how word got to the Decepticons about it. 

The attack they launched came out of the left field, and with the majority of Autobot forces made unaware by the motivation to fight--and thus, patrols not being as heavily regulated in the area--they pull up to the scene to see the extraction already in process. He leads a patrol with a single objective: defend the underground structure.

Above ground is where the battle wages: an arrangement of explosive fuel canisters and the smell of energon and oil as it swirls down into depressions in the ground. Smoke from impacts wafts up until Hot Rod can’t see more than a few feet in front of him.

He tries to keep his aim steady, gunning a seeker out of the air with long-distance fire and mentally thanking Bumblebee for the practice. He shifts to his alt-mode to traverse the path forward. The terrain becomes blockier as the battle edges closer toward Decepticon territory, with the ruins of an abandoned city populating the outskirts. When he’s not dodging the tall structures, he’s swerving in and out of the skeleton buildings. 

Close to the remains of what was once an old production plant, a seeker begins to tail him. Red blaster fire just misses his flank, following him in spite of his best efforts to employ evasive maneuvers. 

The second series of shots clip the tip of his spoiler, sending pain racing up his sensory net. He’s falling to his knees as the momentum carries him forward, causing him to roll into a defensive position. He kicks out one leg as he nears a wall, using the friction of it dragging across the ground to draw himself to an abrupt halt.

The fighting in the distance subsides with the sound of bombs launching, the imminent explosion causing the ground to shake. He keeps his head down, waiting out the impact.

His injury is too small to be problematic but too big for self-repairs to take care of. He’s thrown off balance, trying to bear the stinging sensation that is being amplified by the grit particles flying through the air. 

The blow’s dealer pursues him, transforming out of mid-air and kicking up dust with her landing. Hot Rod can see the triumphant rise of her wings from his peripheral vision. She’s saying something, but he hasn’t tuned his audials in her direction. It relays as a warbled mishmash of mumbles that he’s unable to decipher.

He’s fumbling for his gun, but unable to find it on his frame. Distantly, he hears the beep of the seeker’s aim locking onto him. He braces for impact.

Another engine sounds. Deep and rumble, it chokes on the same dust he’s been venting. 

He’s no longer focusing on the seeker, who should have taken her shot by now. It sounds as though she’s stuck in place, unable to act.

“It’s rude to touch things that don’t belong to you,” growls a voice, brimming with static. It’s distinctive. When given a second to think, he’s able to place it as Soundwave. 

The seeker is pushed back in the direction of the action. “Go,” Soundwave barks.

The seeker gets a running start before she takes off with a loud blast. Hot Rod pushes himself up from a crouch, grasping for the gun that was knocked out of his hand. The weight of the grip in his hand is a reassurance.

He can hear Soundwave moving closer without having to look up. He shakes his head to clear it, raising his blaster with one finger poised on the trigger. 

Soundwave replies with a shake of his head.

“You won’t shoot me,” says Soundwave.

“You don’t know that.” He hopes that the wobble in his voice doesn’t translate.

Soundwave grunts. “I do. You’ve always been too easy to read.”

He begins to walk forward. Hot Rod keeps the gun on him, aimed at his red visor. 

Soundwave stops a few feet away from him. His right arm is outstretched, palm upturned as if asking for Hot Rod’s hand. Or his gun.

Heat courses through Hot Rod, causing his plating to expand and reveal his inner wiring. “Back off.”  _ Decepticon _ is left unsaid.

Soundwave drops his hand and walks right into the barrel of Hot Rod’s gun. It presses up against his mouthplate with a small click.

“Do it,” he says.

Hot Rod’s resolve wavers. His hand shakes.

Soundwave pounces on the opportunity, knocking the gun out of his hand and then kicking it away. Hot Rod listens to the sound of it as it scrapes over tiles and dislodged pieces of plating and debris. Though not his only means of defence, it only makes him more aware of the gaping hole in his armour that Soundwave is crawling inside of.

Soundwave grabs the same wrist that Hot Rod’s now-empty hand is attached to. The grip isn’t punishing but it’s tight enough to caution him from trying to escape it. When he speaks again, his voice is unusually soft.

“You need to let go. It’s going to get you killed.”

“What?” he says, before he can process the thought. 

“You. Stopping to think. If I was at all serious about killing you, you would be dead by now.”

It’s hard to stop the corners of his mouth from twitching up. “But you’re not serious.”

Soundwave doesn’t appreciate the sentiment. His grip tightens. He walks Hot Rod back a few steps, until they’re concealed under the factory entrance’s patchy roof.

“I’m not, because our mission is to collect supply, not make an example of our opponents.”

Hot Rod opens his mouth to speak, but Soundwave isn’t finished. “Any other Autobot would have shot me on sight,” he says. 

“Do you want me to?” The thought of it makes his intake squeeze to the point of discomfort.

“Yes. Because then it’d mean you understand where your loyalties lie.”

“I can be both loyal to the Autobots and also not want to harm you.”

“The feeling isn’t mutual. The next time you get in my way, I won’t hesitate to fire at you.”

There isn’t a twinge of humour to imply that what he’s saying is hyperbolic. On the contrary, Soundwave holds himself like the Decepticon assaulter that he’s pretending to be now. He makes Hot Rod look tiny by comparison.

Instead of it onlining his defence protocols, Hot Rod finds himself swept with grief at the retrogression. 

“I don’t get it,” he says, his vents stuttering. “We worked so well together. Did that mean nothing to you?”

Soundwave rises back, as if startled. It might not have occurred to him that Hot Rod was going to take the conversation in  _ that _ direction after he just finished aiming a gun at him.

“I work in the best interests of the Decepticons,” he answers. “That includes both defeating the Quintessons and sustaining a stable fuel source for my people.”

“You say this is in the Decepticons’ best interests? Picking unnecessary fights; adding to the number of wounded and miserable? Peace has always been an option.”

“Peace means conceding to the Autobot morality. It’s not an option.”

“But--”

“Listen to me. That time has passed. We’re enemies now.” He drops Hot Rod’s hand, having said what he needed to.

Hot Rod searches for an explanation, using the opportunity to avert his optics.

“Is this because of Megatron?” When Soundwave says nothing, he gets a bit braver: he steps closer into him. His optics lock back onto the matte blue paint. “Listen, I get it. He’s your leader; I’m the same way with Optimus. But you also have to do the right thing. Don’t you think life would be better if we didn’t have to worry about a wall? We could pool resources, live as we once did--”

“Just because the war is over doesn’t mean the conflict has been resolved.”

Hot Rod shakes his head. “You can’t believe that.”

“I do,” he says, though it comes a beat too late.

Frustration gnaws at Hot Rod, increasing the energy output through his sensory net. He can see the effect it’s having on Soundwave, who stands with both shoulders hiked just a bit too high. Even if it’s just relaying information to his biometrics, it must be strange. It’s something new to adjust to after their time spent working together, when he only ever picked up on the reassurance and trust that Hot Rod sent out in steady pulses.

Hot Rod cocks his head. “Then  _ you _ shoot me,” he says.

“What?”

“Shoot me.”

Soundwave’s visual feed flares, the glow threatening to spill down the sides of his face. “No.”

“Why not?”

“It’d be wasteful.”

_“Wasteful?_ That’s what you come up with?” He pushes out a laugh. “Just admit you don’t want to.”

Soundwave shrugs. “I don’t need to. You’ll tear yourself up about this later. That’s plenty.”

Hot Rod takes another step back. He opens his arms and exposes his chest.

“How’s that any different from me not wanting to kill you? Answer that.”

Soundwave emits a loud growl. “Because I could do it.”

He must see the disbelieving look on Hot Rod’s face, because the hue of his visor darkens to a deep sanguine.

“I could,” he continues, “but I’m not going to. And it’s not because of our old alliance.”

“Then why?”

“Because Optimus is going to be deposed, one way or another. And I don’t want his replacement to be just as much a pain in the aft to work with.”

It’s a lot to unpack all at once, and the first sentence is particularly troublesome. Hot Rod’s hand twitches, as if it still held a weapon.

“It’s not going to come to that.”

“It isn’t? I think it’s fate that you’ll someday become my equal, in some form or another.”

A dry laugh. “Since when did you believe in destiny?”

Though the combination of Soundwave’s visor and facemask betray no emotion, the tilt of his head is telling enough. “I think I remember you saying something about it, back when we were partners.”

Mixed signals. Hot Rod doesn’t know how to proceed. Appeal to their old friendship? Try to intimidate him? He’s an enigma.

When Hot Rod remains silent, Soundwave takes it as an incentive to elaborate.

“Don’t think that because I support the Decepticon cause, I can’t look back on what we accomplished.”

“It sure doesn’t sound like you’re happy with it.”

“I hate how it blinds you to present. That’s all.” He closes in on Hot Rod, blocking the only escape route. “I don’t want you to do something stupid because you want to spare me.”

Hot Rod’s denta smash together.

“You’re a hypocrite. You just did it with that seeker!”

“I’m a commander: I can do what I want.”

“That’s not the point.” His hands tremble, wanting to form fists. “I don’t understand you. Are we enemies or not?”

Soundwave is still. When he moves again, he’s slower.

“I don’t understand you,” he parrots. His hand reaches up. Hot Rod lets it touch his shoulder. It then creeps up to gently hold the side of his face. “I should have let her shoot you.”

Hot Rod leans into the touch, finding a meagre helping of comfort in the gesture. Though his speedster frame is always discharging heat to regulate his internal temperature, it’s different to have the warmth of someone else by his side; particularly someone he turned to for guidance. Soundwave is someone he put his trust in and has yet to see it broken by, as silly as that sounds.

“I don’t want to see you on the battlefield again,” says Soundwave, ending the momentary peace.

Hot Rod rocks back on his heels, trying to free himself. “You can’t stop me from fighting. It’s kind of my function.” His spoken words become lighter, sounding more like questions than answers.

Soundwave’s hand pinches both sides of his face, yanking him forward. “Don’t test me.”

“Well, you’re not the boss of me.” He waits for a second, then adds the “sorry.”

Soundwave lets go, and Hot Rod resists the urge to massage his jaw. He hears the sound of the blaster before he sees the biolights on its side. One step back, and Soundwave has given himself a clear shot. Only, he’s aiming at Hot Rod’s legs.

“One bad injury could put you out for some time, especially if I damage a neural circuit. It’d take some time for you to crawl to help. The energon loss could be excessive.”

“What--”

Soundwave makes sure Hot Rod is looking at him before he continues. “If I see you again, I won’t shoot to kill, but I will make sure your heroics are put to an early end. Heed my advice and go.”

The tonal whiplash is enough to make his head spin. He searches Soundwave again for any outward signs of humour and finds nothing.

“How can you say that?” His voice is beaten and raw.

“If you won’t protect yourself, then I’ll do it for you.”

“But I don’t--”

“You have ten seconds.”

“Soundwave--”

“Nine.”

His sound blaster onlines with a low hum. Though he doubts Soundwave would ever inflict lasting harm, the possibility that he  _ would _ is what sends him running.

Transforming into his alt-mode is painful on both his leg and his spoiler but he shoulders through it as best he can, revving his engine as a distraction. As he retreats, he angles his mirrors to look at Soundwave. The Decepticon hasn’t moved, but he’s loosely aiming his sonic cannon in his general direction.

The warning blast that’s fired close to his back wheels might’ve only been intended to scare him, but it doesn’t stop him from pushing himself into a higher gear. 

**Author's Note:**

> come talk to me on my [tumblr](https://amaltheeia.tumblr.com/)! Comments and casual conversation are _always_ welcome. ♥


End file.
